A Matter of Degrees

by Alex Marcoux

  “The Ultimate Conspiracy?” One of Rachel’s dark eyebrows spiked.

  “That’s not what’s strange. His voice message said that he wanted to discuss Among Us, not The Ultimate Conspiracy—which is my conspiracy project.”

  “Perhaps he just got his titles mixed up. Let’s go shopping tomorrow and get some food for you. I can come up over the weekend and see how you’re doing.”

  * * *

  The following day, the women left the cabin early. After the grocery store, they stopped at a strip mall where Jessie bought a battery charger for her phone, as her charger had been destroyed in the fire. She also purchased a pair of sneakers, since she had only the dress shoes from her escape.

  “Do you want to buy some clothes while we’re here?” Rachel asked as they passed a clothing store.

  “I’d prefer that nobody knows I’m here. I shouldn’t use my credit card, and I don’t want to deplete my cash. I’m sure there are some clothes at the cabin I could hang around in.”

  The women returned to the cabin and Rachel soon left, agreeing to call Jessie later in the week. From the front deck, Jessie watched Rachel’s car back out of the bumpy driveway. She waved good-bye, then retreated to Steve’s office. She turned on the computer and browsed through a small filing cabinet as the computer booted up.

  “Bingo!” She pulled a manila file labeled “Lodge #46.” Curious, she perused the documents. These must have been what Gary Stonewall was looking for when he visited the house. He probably thinks they’ve been destroyed.

  The bottom file drawer was labeled “expenses.” Here she found records relating to the cabin. Oddly though, the bills had been mailed to Brennan Keller at a post office box in Jewett. Who’s Brennan Keller? She found auto insurance, utilities, banking statements, even tax returns for the previous year, all in Brennan Keller’s name, Then she discovered Brennan Keller’s check stubs from the Syracuse Herald, She wondered if Steve had been subletting from Brennan, or perhaps Brennan was a roommate.

  The computer, which was now ready, lured Jessie from the cabinet. She was relieved when she saw several documents concerning the White Plains lodge. There was a check-writing program for Brennan Keller; the register showed a little over one-year’s history. Also, there were articles by Brennan, along with letters to a Syracuse Herald editor. Apparently, Brennan was a freelance writer for the paper.

  Jessie turned her attention to a small bookshelf where countless books on Freemasonry and other secret societies were stored. A gaudy mug that had been used as a bookend also contained a set of keys. One key appeared to be for the cabin, another for a post office box, and then there was a set for a Ford.

  At the front door, Jessie inserted a key in the keyhole, confirming the match. She opened the screen door and stood on the small porch. It was a pleasant May evening. A warm breeze stirred the dense evergreens that surrounded the house. A single chair was placed in the corner of the porch. Jessie drew near the chair and sat, feeling sad that there was only one chair. Steve had always been a loner, valuing his privacy. As she rested there, she recalled memories of her brother, very much feeling alone.

  The cry of a crow drew her attention to the property. There was nothing luxurious or elaborate about the house. The driveway wasn’t even asphalted. Rather, two dirt paths from tire wear and tear etched across the front of the property.

  Jessie followed the tire tracks which led her behind the house to a Ford Mustang hidden from the road. The car was locked. From her pocket she retrieved the key chain and inserted one of the keys. The doors unlocked.

  Jessie sat in the car. She unlocked the glove compartment and retrieved an envelope. The registration and insurance card confirmed that the car belonged to Brennan Keller. As she stuffed the envelope back she spotted a man’s wallet. She lifted the eel skin folder and unfolded the wallet. A picture of Steve stared at her from a New York license. Jessie glanced at the name under his picture, “Brennan T. Keller…Oh my God,” she whispered. “Steve was Brennan Keller?”

  * * *

  Over the next few days, Jessie ransacked the house. She gathered clues and by the weekend, when Rachel visited, Jessie had much to share. Rachel was at the cabin only minutes that Sunday morning when Jessie hit her with questions. “What was your relationship with Steve?”

  Rachel sat at the dining area table. “I already told you. We were friends.”

  “You were more than friends, weren’t you?” Jessie leaned against the refrigerator, her arms crossed.

  “We were friends,” Rachel said defensively, “but under different circumstances, I think there would have been more. There was a moment between us.”

  “A moment?”

  “A kiss. But we both agreed that a relationship would be too complicated.” Rachel’s eyes met Jessie’s. “To be honest, I was in love with him, but I never told him.”

  “Are you Julie Harris?”

  “No. But I am aware that Steve purchased cruise tickets and one of them was in that name. He asked me to join him on that trip using that alias.”

  “Have you ever heard the name Brennan Keller?”

  “No. Who is he?”

  “It was an alias for Steve.” Jessie joined Rachel at the table. “Apparently, over the last year, he has been living another life. His alias has a social security number, a driver’s license, and credit. He’s been freelancing as a reporter for the Syracuse Herald. He even filed tax returns. I don’t have a clue how he pulled this off.”

  Rachel appeared thoughtful. “About two years ago Steve did a report on how easy it was to get a fake ID and assume another identity.”

  “He started portraying Brennan about a year ago. It looks as if his relationship with the paper was by mail or email. The question is—why would he do it?”

  “Something obviously didn’t feel right a year ago. That’s when he first came to me and insisted that I stop my investigation. Perhaps it was a contingency plan if something went dreadfully wrong, then he’d have a place to start over.”

  Jessie stared at Rachel, “He must have thought a lot of you and trusted you. He told you about this place. I didn’t know it existed.”

  “Jessie, the only thing Steve conveyed was that he had a second home. He didn’t share any of the other stuff. What are you going to do?”

  “I’m staying right here. I’m going to learn everything I can about Brennan Keller and this men’s secret society he belonged to. Did Steve actually have a second life, or was it a hideaway? Did Brennan have friends? Did he know his neighbors? Did anybody actually see Brennan?”

  “Why?”

  “I need some answers, Rachel. I owe it to Steve to find out who killed him.”

  “I understand your grief. But how is learning about Brennan going to get answers?”

  “If my hunch is correct, no one actually saw Brennan. My brother was very much a loner. I bet he didn’t have friends up here, and I believe his relationship with the newspaper was completely by correspondence.”

  “I still don’t get it, Jessie.”

  “I’m going to assume Brennan Keller’s identity and infiltrate the Freemason lodge.”

  “Are you off your rocker?”

  “I can take on Brennan’s identity fairly easily. He has credit, a social security number, a resume, employment, shelter, and transportation. He has insurance and a driver’s license.”

  “A driver’s license with Steve’s picture on it.”

  “Steve and I have a family resemblance.” Jessie walked to a small mirror that hung on the wall. She pulled her long brown hair away from her face. “We have the same eyes, chin, and cheekbones.”

  “Steve’s eyes were blue!”

  “Contacts can correct that. My biggest challenge is the height and weight. But, I can do this,” Jessie said trying to convince herself.

  “Timeout! Not to burst your bubble, but when your brother was alive, I jokingly threatened to do the same, and after he laughed hysterically, he said it would never work.”


  “Rachel, you’re very feminine. I don’t believe you could impersonate a man. I’m five-ten. I tower over most women, and I’ve worked out for years, so I already have a muscular build—”

  “No! It goes beyond that. Your brother said that as long as I had breasts, I would never make it through the first three initiations, I got the impression that the candidates have to be topless during an initiation.”

  Jessie wasn’t going to allow the challenge to dampen her spirit. “I’ll find a way. I’m going to discover what all this secrecy is about and then I’m going to write a novel, revealing the truth about why Steve died,” Jessie vowed.

  Rachel saw that Jessie was becoming obsessed and drawn into the saga that had consumed her own life over the past year.

  * * *

  That Monday morning, Jessie called Alison Townsend, a friend in California, who was taking care of her cat, Maxwell. “I’m going to be in New York longer than I had expected. Would you mind watching Maxwell longer?”

  “No, not at all. Do you need me to stop by your house and check on things?”

  “Perhaps. How do you feel about paying my bills while I’m gone?”

  Jessie agreed to have her mail forwarded to Alison’s house and to add Alison as a signer on her checking account. She would make arrangements to have most of her bills paid electronically and have her royalty payments from her publisher direct deposited. Jessie felt comfortable that Alison could handle things while she was gone. Alison even agreed to use Jessie’s house occasionally as a weekend retreat.

  “Terrific. If you need to reach me, call my cell or you can email me. Thanks for your help, Alison.”

  Later that night when Jessie’s cell phone rang, she knew it was Taylor. Jessie wasn’t looking forward to this conversation. “Hi, sweetheart. How are you?”

  “I’m missing you. When can you join me?” Taylor asked.

  “It looks like I have to spend more time here, Taylor. I’m not sure how long yet.”

  “Why? What’s going on?” Taylor sounded disappointed.

  “There are some real estate issues that need to be wrapped up.” Jessie hated misleading Taylor. “Also, I need to spend more time around Steve’s home. I don’t believe he killed himself, Taylor. It’s hard to explain, sweetheart. I just want to be around where he was living.”

  Taylor brought to mind when she had lost her fiancé a couple years earlier. She remembered how she had needed her own space to deal with the loss, and how she had withdrawn from her life. “Honey, do whatever you need to.”

  Jessie’s heart warmed when hearing Taylor’s words. “Thanks for understanding. Are you checking your email?”

  “Maybe once a week, why?”

  “I’ve refrained from calling you many times because of the time difference. I’ve thought about emailing you, but I wasn’t sure if you were checking it.”

  “I’ll do a better job getting online, Jess. Many times I’ve wanted to call you also, but I knew you’d be sleeping.”

  Jessie missed having Taylor in her arms. When their conversation ended that night, she retreated to Steve’s computer, put her feelings in a note, and emailed Taylor.

  Chapter Nine

  Over the next week, Jessie crammed all information she could find on Freemasonry. She scrutinized Lodge documents she found in the filing cabinet. There was one letter in particular that intrigued her. Apparently, a member of Steve’s Lodge was relocating to California, and Steve wrote to a California Lodge to identify the man as a Master Mason. The California Worshipful Master followed with a letter to Steve requesting a personal meeting with the man when he moved.

  “If I had a referral from a Worshipful Master, I could avoid the first three initiations,” she speculated. From everything Jessie had studied, she knew the initiations through Master Mason were grueling, and she had already been warned about the threat of having to unclothe during those initiations.

  Jessie jolted from a sudden telephone ring. She hadn’t heard the cabin telephone before. After two rings, she heard a female voice. “Hello, we can’t come to the phone right now. Leave a message after the tone.” Beep! Using the voice as a beacon, Jessie traced the answering machine location to a remote kitchen shelf.

  A voice was broadcasted from the machine, “Hi Brennan, it’s Len Richards. I haven’t received a response on my article request. I need it by Friday. Let me know if you can do it. Call me or email back.”

  “E-mail?” Knowing that her brother was a creature of habit and that he had always used an AOL email address, she went online and noticed the America Online page bookmarked. Here she saw the screen name BKeller in the browser. A password was needed. Jessie tried the obvious, but she knew if she made too many mistakes the account would be flagged.

  She closed her eyes. “Steve, what would you use?” she whispered aloud. She didn’t hear the password, but she typed the first thing that came to mind—Rachel. Jessie smiled when the computer recognized the password. “So big brother, you did have feelings for her.”

  Among the few emails to Brennan was a note from Len Richards offering Brennan an assignment to write an article on a company relocating to Syracuse. He had asked Brennan to answer by the previous day.

  Jessie reviewed Steve’s previous email exchanges and attempted to mimic Steve’s writing style in a note: Dear Len, Sorry for the delay. I’ve had the flu. I’ll do the piece on the Xandex relocation. I’ll email it by the end of the week, Brennan.

  For the rest of the week, Jessie studied Freemasonry and surfed the internet collecting information for the article. She scrutinized Brennan’s articles to reproduce his writing style. Jessie was surprised by how challenging it was to do the article. I’ll stick with writing novels, she decided as she emailed the article that Friday morning.

  Within an hour, Jessie received a note back from Len. In it, he praised the Xandex article and offered another assignment that would be due the following Friday. Jessie surprised herself when she replied by accepting the project.

  Using her cell phone, Jessie called Detective Hopkins for an update on Steve’s death. The police still believed it was suicide. After talking with Hopkins, she was transferred to the arson investigator, who had concluded that faulty electrical wiring set off the fire. Jessie provided the police department with her email address. “I’m going to be traveling a bit,” she told them. “If you need to reach me—try my cell or email.”

  Later that afternoon, while online, Jessie purchased a scanner with a credit card in Brennan Keller’s name. She arranged to have it shipped to the cabin. Then she surfed to LensWorld.com. In the evening she emailed Jason, a friend in California. Jason was a cosmetologist and a cross-dresser. Jessie asked for help.

  That Monday, the UPS driver set a package by the front door. After the truck left, Jessie retrieved the carton. It didn’t take long for her to install the scanner. In the filing cabinet, she dug out the letter from the California Lodge that had intrigued her. She scanned its letterhead, reproducingd the image in a JPG and inserted it into a Word document.

  While online, Jessie searched for the White Plains Freemason Lodge #46. On their website she confirmed that Gary Stonewall had replaced Steve. She copied and pasted the Lodge address into the document with the California letterhead. Then, she wrote a referral letter, in which the California Worshipful Master indicated that Brennan Keller, a Master Mason, had relocated to New York and was searching for a Blue Lodge. The letter stated that Brennan would contact Gary in the near future.

  After Jessie practiced signing the man’s signature a dozen of times, she forged the document. She set it beside the original letter sent to Steve, and smiled. It looked authentic. She inserted the letter into an envelope, addressed and stamped it, then stuffed it in a larger packet with a note: Hi Alison: Could you drop this letter in the mail? Please? Thanks! Jessie.

  The next day, Jessie mailed the envelope using overnight service. At a department store, she purchased scissors and trimming shears. When she returned to the
cabin, she smiled when she saw two packages on the deck.

  * * *

  Jessie poured a glass of wine and headed for the small bedroom. She stopped in front of the full-length mirror, sipped her Cabernet, then set it on the nightstand. She looked at the scar on her cheek. With her fingers, she traced the mark, recalling how she had fought for her life in the Grand Canyon the previous year. She grabbed a brush and stroked her long dark hair.

  Jessie retrieved scissors from the dresser. She opened the blades and placed them against a clump of hair. Cowardly, she recoiled and sipped her wine. She took a deep breath, pulled a bunch of hair to the side, and opened the sheers so that they edged her hair. Closing her eyes, she severed the large clump. There was no turning back.

  A brief time later, Jessie’s hair was shorter than she had ever worn it. She drained the last of the wine, then stood back from the mirror, taking in how the haircut altered her appearance. God, I look butch.

  Jessie opened the box that Jason had shipped to her. She withdrew items and spread them on the bed. There was a padded body suit, artificial facial hair, Ace bandage, and makeup. She removed her T-shirt and bra. With the Ace bandage, she wrapped her breasts, squashing her femininity. She slipped on shoulder pads, which draped from her back to her flattened chest. The padded bodysuit had no bulges and appeared smooth.

  She put on one of her brother’s dress shirts and buttoned it to her neck. The shoulders fit well, but the sleeves were a tad too long. Then she removed her sweatpants and slid on a padded undergarment over her hips. She followed with boxer briefs. The padded insert accented her buttocks and groin, detracting from her feminine hips.

  Jessie slipped into the pants. The extra padding in the butt allowed a perfect waist fit, but the inseam was too long, so she cuffed the hems. She wedged inserts into a pair of Steve’s shoes, then tried them on for size. A little large, but they could do in a pinch. She followed with a tie, then jacket.